


Cold as Ice

by burntotears



Series: Myan Prompts [5]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Denial, Fist Fights, Hand Jobs, M/M, Rough Kissing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-04 22:55:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burntotears/pseuds/burntotears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael has been heckling Ryan the entire game and Ryan is fucking fed up with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold as Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Because everyone wanted a Myan hockey AU and I even read the wiki on hockey terms so you'll fucking enjoy it, dammit.

“What the fuck game are you fucking playing, Haywood?” Michael groaned, gliding across the ice with his teammates while shaking his head. Ryan had been testing his patience since they stepped out on the ice.

“Get off my fucking dick, Jones,” he heard Ryan growl back as he sped past him, the puck against his stick before he passed it to another teammate. So _maybe_ he’d been heckling Ryan the whole game and _maybe_ they were technically winning, but lately something about Ryan just made him so fucking angry, he just couldn’t help himself. He’d already been given a minor penalty earlier in the game for heckling (who ever was penalized for hounding their own teammates? Michael Jones, that’s who) and Ryan ended up in the penalty box once for charging Michael into the side boards in retaliation to a particularly off color taunt. 

“Why don’t you go back to the minor leagues, Haywood? At least you were a fucking decent player there,” Michael replied, missing a pass that was made to him because he was too busy trying to rile Ryan up. 

Apparently Ryan had had it. Two and a half periods of Michael taunting the shit out of him was his breaking point. He sped up to Michael, stopping only inches in front of him. “You want to fucking _go_ , Jones?” Ryan’s voice was low and dangerous, holding his stick so tightly it looked like it might splinter to pieces.

Michael snorted. “You wanna _fight me_?”

In reply, Ryan dropped his stick on the ice, shaking the glove from his left hand slowly as he stared the shorter man down. Michael’s eyes widened; he was impressed by Ryan’s nerve. He dropped his own stick and began to shuck off his gloves as well.

“What _the fuck_ are you two doing?” Ray screamed, trying to catch their attention, but they didn’t pay him any heed. 

Ryan pushed hard against Michael’s shoulders, shoving him back a few inches on the slick surface. This enraged Michael thoroughly. He was the one with the grudge here, Ryan didn’t have any right to be starting shit. He tugged his helmet off and sent it flying toward the rink floor so hard it bounced back up and went sailing toward the side boards where it reverberated back onto the ice and slid toward the other team’s goal. He charged forward, slamming hard into Ryan with his shoulder and careening them both back toward the corner boards near their goal, Ryan only _just_ stopping Michael from slamming his back into the boards when his fist connected hard with Michael’s stomach.

Michael coughed, doubling over, his face a shade of red that nearly rivaled their jerseys. “You fucking…” he hissed, shoving forward to attack again, but arms wrapped around him from behind and pulled him away. The linesman had arrived and was breaking them up, screaming about how stupid of a display they were putting on, but Michael couldn’t hear over the blood rushing in his ears.

The period was nearly over and the referee was penalizing both of them - they wouldn’t be out of the box before the end of the game. Fuck. The ref had to stick Michael in the opposing team’s penalty box because team-on-team fights just didn’t happen and what good would it do to put them both in the same box? 

The game ended before their five minutes finished and they still won, but Gus looked ready to murder them as he walked out of the stadium, not even congratulating his team on their victory. Ray flipped them both off on his way off the ice while Gavin just looked so damn confused at what had transpired.

Ryan and Michael didn’t speak while they changed in the locker room, though Michael could feel Ryan’s presence like a hole burning into the back of his skull. The team quietly filed out of the room and left them alone where Ryan wheeled on Michael, his anger still evident in his features. “What is your fucking problem?”

“Why do you assume _I’m_ the one with the problem here?” Michael sneered, giving Ryan his best glare.

“You’re being a little fucking prick and I haven’t done shit to you. You could’ve cost us the game, fuckwad!” Ryan crossed his arms tightly against his chest like he needed to keep himself in check or he might lose his shit again.

“We _won_ , dipshit,” Michael replied, shaking his head. Even now, just standing there _looking_ at Ryan was pissing him off. 

“No thanks to you!” Ryan threw his hands in the air in annoyance. “What the fuck did I _do_ to you? Why are you up my fucking ass lately?”

“Because!” Michael replied lamely, no real response at the ready.

Ryan advanced forward, stepping closer to Michael. “Because _why_?”

“Because you fucking piss me off!” Michael said, reaching out and shoving at Ryan’s shoulders. He was too close, dangerously so. Michael needed to get _away_.

“That’s not a fucking answer, Michael!” Ryan raged, getting back in Michael’s face, glaring, demanding some sort of recompense for the past few weeks of relentless badgering.

“You want a fucking _answer_ , Ryan?” Michael challenged and Ryan nodded vigorously. It felt like all the blood in his body was boiling between his ears as he shoved against Ryan’s shoulders until the other man collided with the lockers behind him, an angry grunt leaving him. Ryan was about to push back but Michael surged forward before he could, slamming his mouth into the blond’s, kissing him furiously, throwing all his confusion and frustration behind it. He didn’t want to admit to wanting Ryan, to thinking about him every night after practice, to holding his dick tightly and crying out Ryan’s name as he came. He would rather pretend that Ryan was the enemy, that Ryan was the worst thing to ever happen to him rather than the most fucking beautiful person to ever walk into his life. 

Ryan pushed out a surprised, breathy ‘oh’ against Michael’s lips, his breath coming out in short gasps, too taken aback to respond to Michael’s advances. The brunette pulled away as he noticed this, his face flushed with embarrassment and disappointment. He was angry that he let it get this far; he should’ve just walked away and left things alone.

“There’s your fucking answer,” Michael said quietly, looking at his feet rather than anything remotely near Ryan’s face. He turned to leave the locker room, humiliation so heavy in his stomach he thought he might throw it up, but Ryan gripped his forearm and jerked him back so hard that their chests collided and Michael had no choice but to look directly into Ryan’s stupidly blue eyes.

“It was a good answer,” Ryan breathed against Michael’s face, grinning sheepishly with his cheeks tinging red.

“You’re a fucking dork,” Michael replied, leaning in and kissing Ryan hard, this time mutually. The taller man wrapped his hands tightly around Michael’s waist, tugging him flush against Ryan’s body, making Michael moan and deepen the kiss as he pressed one hand against Ryan’s side and another tugged at the blond’s sweaty locks. It felt more like a battle than a kiss, their tongues both fighting for dominance, neither wanting to relent to the other. It probably didn’t help that they were both enforcers - two guys just _made_ for fighting. It didn’t matter that Ryan was the larger of the two because Michael could always hold his own; he’d proven it time and time again on the ice and off.

Ryan broke away and kissed down Michael’s neck, biting him hard in that soft flesh, a challenge of sorts.

“Fuck,” Michael cursed softly, tugging none-too-softly at Ryan’s hair, causing the other man to moan. “I’m gonna suck you off,” Michael said bluntly, pushing at Ryan’s shoulders so he would let go of him. He didn’t need to be told twice; he dropped his arms from Michael’s waist instantly, staring with wide, blown pupils as Michael looked him up and down once before yanking at his gym shorts and freeing his hardening cock.

He didn’t want to think about how much he’d jerked off thinking of this very thing because he was pathetic enough as it was without admitting to how much Ryan had affected him in recent weeks. He dropped to his knees and placed his hands on either of Ryan’s hips, swallowing him down without preamble. 

“ _Shit_ Michael,” Ryan hissed, his hips bucking reflexively before Michael’s fingers tightened, stilling him. He pulled back, licking the underside of Ryan’s still hardening cock, bringing him to full erection with each movement. Ryan grasped at Michael’s hair and shoulder, threading his fingers almost endearingly through the strands.

When he was fully hard, Michael began bobbing his head back and forth, swallowing him as deep as he could manage, gagging a little but ignoring it. His own cock was throbbing between his legs, he was so hot he could hardly think straight. He pulled back and sucked liberally at the head of Ryan’s cock, grinning when the other man moaned loudly and his grip tightened significantly in Michael’s hair. With a few teasing licks he returned to licking down Ryan’s shaft greedily, not even bothering to be graceful or take his time; he just wanted to make Ryan come.

It didn’t take all that long. A few more minutes and Ryan was tugging at Michael’s hair. “ _Michael_ , I’m-” he warned and then he was coming down the younger man’s throat. Michael swallowed him down until he was whimpering and sensitive and released him from his mouth with a wet pop.

His knees hurt from kneeling on the concrete floor of the locker room and he plopped down on the bench, palming at his aching erection. Ryan tugged his shorts up and sat down next to him, eying Michael’s crotch like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. “Take a picture, fuckface,” Michael barked, groaning as he rubbed more readily at himself through his shorts.

Ryan chuckled, swatting Michael’s hand away and reaching into his shorts so he could wrap his hand around his cock, immediately jerking his wrist up and down, no ‘how do you do’ or anything. Michael leaned back, mouth ajar as he closed his eyes and enjoyed it, whining when Ryan pulled too hard or too fast, but it was only a few minutes before Michael’s orgasm shook through him, come covering Ryan’s hand and the inside of his shorts. The blond made a face, taking his hand from Michael’s shorts and then wiping the come off on the leg of them.

“You fucking _dick_ ,” Michael groaned, still too boneless to actually retaliate.

“That’s no way to talk to the guy who just got you off,” Ryan said pointedly.

“It is when it’s _you_.”

Ryan shrugged. “You’re the one who wanted my dick in your mouth.”

“And yet you have to _ask_ why you piss me off?” Michael just sighed, too blissed out to be angry.

Ryan laughed. “If I had known that making you come would shut you the fuck up, I would have done it ages ago.”

“I fucking hate you,” Michael replied with little malice.

“I know,” Ryan chuckled.


End file.
